The Stranger
by livin-in-my-head
Summary: A requested fic from @the core of justice! The characters in this book that were not featured in the movie are the above user's creations.
1. Chapter 1

Moana yawned, stretching and climbing to her feet. She peered out of the window of her hut and saw that the sun was barely peeking above the horizon. _Thank the gods_ , she thought as she changed quickly into clothes more appropriate for daytime and left the small building. _My favorite time of day_

Moana had been living in the tiny hut connected to her family's grand one ever since she had returned from her latest journey exploring the sea with Maui and several islanders. She had settled a new colony on a very promising little island, a difficult thing to do. Now, she was staying at home for a few weeks before heading back out onto the open ocean. While she stayed on her home island, her parents, knowing how much she valued alone time, gave her the hut as a present.

Already, Moana was feeling the tug of the sea, how she wanted to be out and sailing again. _Not yet_ , she told herself. _Wait at least another week - then you can go_.

The island wasn't nearly awake yet. Since it was quite literally the crack of dawn, nobody but Moana was up. She loved these few hours in the morning that she had to herself. Once, she had shared the morning time with her gramma - but then, of course, the elderly woman had passed away. It made Moana feel closer to her, to uphold one of their traditions.

Today, Moana wanted to watch the sunrise.

She had seen countless of them over her years of island life and, more recently, sailing voyages, but she never got tired of the way the firey ball of light rose above the line on the horizon, painting the sky gentle, beautiful colors and washing everything in a rosy light.

Moana hurried to the beach and sat in the sand, hugging her knees to her chest and watching as the sun slid completely above the horizon. She had almost missed it.

Soon, she heard voices and a shadow fell over her. "Hey, Moana," a fisherman greeted her.

"Hello," she replied. "Think today'll be a good day for fishing?"

"Oh, I'm counting on it," the man replied with a cheeky grin. "You could always come out and try to snag a few."

"I wish," Moana responded. "My day's swamped." It wasn't, not really, but she did have a few duties to fulfill, and killing fish was never one of her favorite tasks. Also, she wanted to go visit her gramma's grave deep in the woods.

"Ah, well. Maybe some other time."

"Maybe." Moana raised a hand in farewell as she started back up the beach and toward the woods.

Moana pushed her way through the trees, brushing spider webs from her face and enjoying the sounds of birds singing their early morning song. She chirped back, a trick her father had taught her, and got a resounding tweet in reply. Stifling a giggle, Moana continued onward.

Finally, she reached her gramma's grave. It was placed next to the cave that had previously held all of the boats from the island's voyaging past. Now, the cave was used by nobody but playing children.

Moana fell to her knees and placed her hands on the sold, rounded stone with her gramma's tattoo, a stingray, carved into it. "Hello, Gramma," she said in greeting. It had taken Moana a while to get used to the fact that she would have to talk to a stone rather than her gramma, but once enough time had passed, she was talking to the grave like it was an old friend.

She chatted about the usual things - how life on the island was, how she enjoyed her solitude, how she already wanted to return to the sea. She shared a few secrets: that she hated fishing, that her mother disliked her father's new advisors, and that her father didn't like her mother's cooking.

Finally, she finished as she always did. "Goodbye, Gramma. I love you. I miss you."

Standing, she stretched, blood flowing back to her legs. She shook out her hands and was about to turn back to the village when she heard a very faint moan. Freezing, Moana listened carefully.

The sound came again. _From the cave_. Without a second thought, Moana dashed into the cave and down the winding pathway that led to the huge main chamber.

There, she froze and stared in shock at the boy lying on the stone floor.

His skin was dark, much darker than anyone that Moana had seen before. His eyes were closed but moved restlessly - was he dreaming? Or worse, hallucinating? He was on his back, his limbs splayed and his head turned towards her. His fingers twitched slightly every few seconds.

This wasn't a boy that Moana had ever seen on her island, and she had seen all of her people. And he looked to be in trouble.

Moana burst from the cave and dashed for her village. _I have to tell Father._


	2. Chapter 2

Moana burst into her mother's and father's hut. "Father!" she exclaimed, grabbing her sleeping father's large shoulder. "Wake up!"

Her father bolted upright, her mother more slow to consciousness. Moana grabbed the former's hand and dragged him outside and into the woods.

"Moana, what - " Her father wrested his hand from her grasp and stared at her. "What's going on?"

"There's a boy - a stranger - in the cave," Moana gasped, all of this running finally having caught up with her. "He's hurt - please, Father, he needs help!"

"What do you mean, a stranger in the cave?" her father asked, utterly confused, as he allowed Moana to take his hand once more and lead him to hs deceased mother's grave. Uncharacteristically, Moana didn't even glance at the stone as she pushed her way into the cave with her father close behind.

"See?" she asked, too worried for the wounded boy to feel triumph at the look of shock on her father's face. "A stranger. In the cave."

"I need to go get some others. Stay here with him, Moana. Comfort him," her father ordered, snapping into chieftain mode despite having just woken up mere minutes ago.

As her father turned and ran from the cave, Moana walked over to the boy and sat a cautious distance away from him. "Hello," she whispered uncertainly. "I'm Moana. My father and I are going to take care of you. It's going to be fine. Everything's going to be all right."

The boy moaned slightly. Moana reached out a hand to feel his forehead and see if he had a fever, but paused. What if this strange disease, or whatever it was, was contagious? She couldn't risk it.

So she sat, a safe distance away from the unconcious teenager, and prayed that her father and the other villagers would hurry up.

When they finally entered the cave, none of the villagers her father had selected wanted to touch the child, either. They stood even farther away than Moana was sitting, looking worriedly from the boy to each other.

Moana sighed impatiently. "He needs help!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "Please, help him!"

Unable to ignore a direct command from their future chieftess, the villagers moved forward, each one grabbing one of the boy's limbs. Moana winced - it looked uncomfortable. But then, so was lying on the cold cave floor in whatever condition this teenager was in.

She followed the villagers out of the cave and into the village. Other citizens lined the streets, whispering worriedly and watching the strange procession. There were never visitors to the island without a fair degree of pomp and celebration - how had this boy even made it onto the island without being noticed?

Moana's questions would have to wait until he was concious to ask him her multitude of questions. For now, she could only watch and worry as the healers worked over his twitching body.

"So, what's wrong with him?" she asked after a few minutes of their examination.

"We're not sure," the lead healer said, and Moana's heart skipped a beat.

"How do you not know? You're our best healers!" she snapped, and instantly felt bad as the healers murmured apologies.

"Moana," her father boomed angrily. "These skilled men and women are doing their best. Wait outside."

"Father - "

Her father shot her a dark look. "Are you talking back?"

Moana lowered her head in submission. "No, sir." She meekly left the tent and sat on the ground outside, absentmindedly pulling up blades of grass as she fumed. What right did her father have to throw her out of the healers' tent? She was the one who had _found_ the boy, for crying out loud!

Moana sat there for a long time before her father finally emerged from the tent. "He's sleeping now," he told her.

"He was sleeping before."

"No, he was unconcious. There's a difference. This one is much more..." Her father searched for the right word. "Peaceful."

"Good." Moana was glad that the boy was no longer in visible pain. "May I see him?"

"You can't do anything for him right now. If our healers can't heal him, nobody can."

Moana thought of the gods, of the goddess she had met and the demigod she had befriended. "Maybe I should try to contact Maui or Te Fiti," she murmured thoughtfully.

"No, Moana. The gods should not be disturbed for such trivial matters."

"Trivial matters!" Moana exclaimed angrily. "A boy's life is on the line - "

"We don't know that for a fact," her father said calmly, interrupting her. "All we know is that he was in great distress and now is calm."

"But what if he is important - "

"And what about him indicates that to you?"

Moana thought for a long moment. "He doesn't look like anyone I've ever met," she finally whispered. "And how did he even get onto the island without being seen?"

"We aren't constantly monitoring all of the island's beaches. It's perfectly plausible that he could have sailed ashore on one of the lesser beaches, one that wasn't being fished at the time, and made his way to the cave from there."

Moana hugged her knees to her chest. "I suppose."

Her father smiled at her fondly before reaching out a hand and brushing the hair from her face. "Your heart always was too big for your body," he said quietly, as if he wasn't talking to her. Moana returned his smile and rested her cheek on her knee.

"I hope he's all right," she said softly. "I want to talk to him."


	3. Chapter 3

Moana was down at the beach when the boy awoke. There was only so long you could sit on the ground in front of a tent, waiting for a stranger to regain consciousness. Instead, she had decided to go down to the beach and help the fishermen carry their catches.

As the last fisherman tied up his boat, Moana felt a large hand envelop her shoulder. Jumping, she whirled around to find her father grinning down at her.

"You scared me!" Moana exclaimed indignantly.

"On edge, are we?" her father asked, taking her hand and leading her back to the village.

"Where are we going?" Moana said instead of replying, hope rising in her chest.

"The boy's awake," her father said, confirming her hopes, and Moana wrenched herself away from him and broke into a run. With the ambiance of her father's chuckles in the background, she dashed to the healers' tent and burst inside.

The boy was sitting upright, accepting water from one of the healers. "I want to talk to him alone," Moana ordered, not thinking to be polite or kind to the skilled healers. Muttering, they left, with more than one nasty look cast over their shoulders.

Moana dropped to her knees beside the boy. He looked much better, but there was a trapped look in his eyes like he was a caged animal. Moana reached out a hand to him and he shrank away. Slightly hurt, Moana hugged her knees to her chest instead.

"I'm Moana," she said as the silence stretched on.

Nothing.

"What's your name?" she tried. She smiled as the boy opened his mouth to give a response.

"Zyon." His voice was low and gravelly, making him sound much older than about sixteen or seventeen.

"Zyon?" Moana wrinkled her nose. "That's a rather odd name."

This made the boy seem to shrink even further into himself and Moana hurried to add, "It's a very nice name. I just don't know anyone who has it."

The boy looked at her distrustingly and she held in a sigh. What would it take to gain this boy's trust? Obviously not a few kind words and gestures, that was for sure.

"Where did you come from?" she asked as if she was just making pleasant conversation and wasn't dying inside to know the answer.

"Far away," the boy said, the warning look on her face telling her that that was all of the information she was going to receive about that. _Far away_. Really, that could mean anything from another island to another ocean, if there was such a thing!

"How did you get here?" Moana asked, but the boy just shook his head. She decided to see if he would respond to yes or no questions. "Did you come here by boat?"

No.

Moana realized that she had no idea how else to get to the island. After all, one couldn't exactly _swim_ over the treacherous waters, could they? Moana thought hard, biting her lip. "I'll be right back," she finally said, and left the tent.

"I think something might still be wrong with him," she told the healers who were still waiting outside of the tent. "Could you please go check on him?"

The head healer nodded. "I can do it," she told her fellow healers, who slowly dispersed into the twilit village.

Moana sat outside of the tent and waited for the healer to emerge. "Where am I?" she heard the boy ask and fought down anger. So he wouldn't respond to her questions, but he would willingly talk to the healer? She crossed her arms.

The healer replied, too quiet for Moana to make out her words.

"Please, can I leave? My friend - my friend is in the woods nearby - " Zyon cleared his throat. "Please. I have to make sure that he's okay."

Moana perked up at this. Another stranger to the island? Why had they been separated? Was his friend in the same strange condition he had been in?

"You have to rest for now," said the healer, but her voice had taken on a strange quality. Moana had been cared for her enough as a clumsy child to know that this meant that she was curious or worried about something that she didn't want her patient to know about.

Suddenly, Zyon came streaking out of the tent, shirtless and running as fast as he could. Without thinking, Moana jumped to her feet and, as the head healer emerged with a bowl of water, shouting after them both, she took off after him.

They ran deep into the woods, between trees that Moana had never seen and over rock fixtures that she had never climbed. She had never been this deep in her island's own forest. So why was this boy's friend?

Finally, they burst into a clearing. Moana was breathing heavily and bent over, putting her hands on her knees and trying desperately to catch her breath. When she raised her gaze, her heart skipped a beat.

She recognized the creature in front of her instantly from her Gramma's stories.

Zyon was stroking a dragon.

It was a magnificent beast. Moana's mouth dropped open as it moved lithely, shifting its weight from foot to foot and nuzzling Zyon's head.

It was obvious that the boy was not human. Humans could not tame nor ride dragons, only demigods and gods. So which one was Zyon?

"This is how I got here," Zyon explained, making Moana jump. He no longer seemed scared or caged - he seemed an entirely different person. He was standing tall, his voice carrying confidently. He flashed a grin at her as his dragon snorted. "I'm a demigod, in case you were wondering."

Moana wondered what the protocol for this was. Was she supposed to bow, curtsey, do something to show her respect? She knew nothing about him - she wasn't sure if he had yet earned her respect.

She heard a crashing from behind her and suddenly, her father and the strongest tribesmen burst through the underbrush and into the clearing. They swore and gasped as they saw the dragon. The creature pulled itself up onto its hindquarters and roared, a sound that made Moana and her fellow villagers clap their hands over their ears and fall to their knees. Once the dragon stopped, Moana pulled herself back to her feet, ears ringing.

"Kill them," her father said darkly, and the men around him raised their weapons. The dragon growled, a terrifying noise.

"No!" Moana screamed, dashing across the clearing and positioning herself in front of the boy, centering her weight and holding out her hands as if preparing to fight. "You will not hurt them! This is a demigod and his dragon, and _you will not hurt them_!"

Her father paused, staring incredulously at his daughter, standing with a demigod and a dragon. "A...a _demigod_?" he finally breathed. Moana nodded wordlessly.

"I need somewhere to stay," Zyon broke in. "Please. I know that I have a lot of explaining to do and I know that you don't trust me, but I just need somewhere to live. We have been cast out of every island we land on because people fear us. Please, I'm begging you, break this pattern. Let us stay."

Moana's heart beat quickly. "Please," she repeated for Zyon, meeting her father's gaze desperately.

There was a long, tense moment of silence before her father finally sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Fine," he said gruffly. "But boy, one wrong move and you are off of my island forever, you understand?"

Zyon nodded his head quickly.

"Good," the chieftain said. Obviously unsure of what to do, he raised his hands, turned to his fellow villagers, and shouted, "This demigod is one of us now!"

Moana cheered and clapped, turning around to grin at Zyon. "You're going to have to tell me all of your stories," she said sternly, unable to keep a smile off of her face.

Zyon returned the smile. "Of course," he said.

"Now, let's get back to the village and tell the others," Moana's father said, gesturing with his hand. "After all, you can't hoard all of his stories," he said to his daughter, winking.

Laughing, Moana followed him. Oh, how exciting this day had been!

And she had thought it would just be another normal, boring day.

If only her gramma could see her now.


End file.
